


Offense and Defense

by Deathstar510



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bonding, Drabble Sequence, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Quark is a bad student, Worf worries about people and is grumpy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathstar510/pseuds/Deathstar510
Summary: Worf never asked to care about Quark but he's never been able to look away from someone this insistent on putting himself in danger.





	Offense and Defense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katiemariie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemariie/gifts).



> A (very late) entry for Round 14 of the Trek Rarepair Swap! I tried working with something a little different this time and I'm not sure how the drabble series format turned out but it was really interesting to work in. And a lot harder than I expected. Hope you enjoy!

This whole situation was blown completely out of proportion from the start. There may have been some grabbing of Quark’s throat, sure, some shaking and demands of a refund, but nothing that hadn’t happened before and nothing he couldn’t wheedle his way out of.

Worf didn’t care what was normal. He stood from his table at the first sign of trouble, stalked over, and ended the whole situation with a heavy hand on the Cardassian’s shoulder and a stare that cut through the bravado like a bat’leth to remind everyone here just how little a few strips of latinum mattered.

*

The second time, Worf didn’t even need to get up from his table. No one even got as far as grabbing anyone else. As soon as voices started to rise at the bar – and not in the way that Quark liked, the way that meant everyone here was having a good time – his glass hit the table with a solid sound and he lifted his head.

Ten decibels dropped away instantly and soon so did the offending patron, slinking out the door rather than face the stare of an angry Klingon.

Quark gave Worf the rare free refill that night.

*

The third time, Worf just couldn’t keep his advice to himself.

“You should learn to defend yourself.”

Quark barked out a laugh, sweeping away a dirty glass from the bar. “And they said you didn’t have a sense of humor. Why bother when between you and Odo, nobody can get past threatening?”

“I am not always here and the Constable has an entire station to attend to.” Worf looked to him and didn’t smile. Quark still found that unsettling. “You risk too much.”

“Careful.” Quark broke the eye contact first. “Or else I might start thinking you actually like me.”

*

Worf added a new step to the daily routine after that – staring sternly at Quark every time he took to the holosuites for his morning calisthenics. He never demanded he join, but Quark still felt like every time he _didn’t_ Worf was judging him. It wasn’t anything new, being judged, though the fact that he cared _was_ new. New and frustrating.

He didn’t want to care what Worf thought of him. It was starting to look like that didn’t matter in the face of the fact that he _did._

Saying yes made him curse himself but still he said it.

*

It took exactly one minute after entering the holosuite to start regretting it.

“Does it have to be dark?” He squinted to see the outline of Worf. Ferengi were built for hearing not night vision. Things hadn’t been this dark since the Cardassians ran the station. “I don’t think it has to be dark.”

Worf, of course, looked unbothered. Lucky Klingon could probably see fine. “Warrior’s training requires skill in a variety of environments.” He looked to Quark, huddled miserably and frowning, and sighed, shaking his head. “But for you perhaps we should start simpler. Computer, raise lighting by 30%.”

*

He should never do that again. Or, at least, that’s what the bruising stretched along his hip where he was slapped with a training bat’leth said. And the one on his stomach. And his arm.

Actually that’s what his entire body was saying, every inch of it, and a lesser Ferengi would have taken the opportunity to take a day off. But Quark was a businessman. Businessmen didn’t take days off even when they felt like dying just a little bit.

But next time Worf came anywhere near him saying ‘learn to defend yourself’ he was hiding behind the bar.

*

Worf was as good at letting things go as Quark was at exercise.

“I don’t see why it matters to you if I can throw a punch.” He slid the glass of prune juice across the bar to Worf’s waiting hand. “I’ve run this bar for years and bribery has fixed just about every problem so far.”

“You get no respect by solving problems with bribery.”

Quark’s eyes narrowed. “And why do you _care_?”

Worf’s jaw tightened, the tension covered by a swallow of his juice. He didn’t try to answer the question and Quark supposed that meant he won.

*

He nursed that juice for a good half an hour before he spoke again.

“I do not like leaving people vulnerable.” Worf said it while staring at the drink like it had personally offended him, which really took away from the sentiment. “You get into too much trouble to not know how to defend yourself.”

Quark paused, an empty glass clutched in his hand. “When you put it like that, you almost manage to make that insulting.”

He looked up then, “It was not meant to-“

“Relax, I know what you meant. You still need to work on your delivery.”

*

Somehow that terrible delivery still got him into the holosuite again and that was the worst part of all of this.  Worse than him doing just as badly the second time and going back to sleep with new bruising on top of the older ones. Quark could deal with being terrible at self defense, that was expected really, but the fact that he’d gone into it with the absolutely minimum of bargaining… not so much.

And yet here he was, almost starting to enjoy it. Not the fighting part, of course. But the company was starting to grow on him.

*

“You’re learning.” Worf delivered the praise awkwardly, voice too harsh to let it sound natural. But it had to be sincere – Worf was never anything else.

“I’d buy that if I felt less like a punching bag.” Quark’s shoulder twinged on cue and he winced. “You’re lucky I’m playing along with this when I could be running my business.”

Worf didn’t reply, but he caught what almost looked like a twitch of a smile. Almost. It was still more than he expected to ever see out of him.

One of these days, Quark would have to get a real one.


End file.
